At the end of wandering
by Shibara
Summary: What will a forgotten soldier do when it finds the war for Cybertron has followed him even to Earth. When both sides are enemies, what choice is left? TF:P Rated M for cursing, gore, mature themes, and some torture up the alley. Warnings/notes inside
1. Warnings and Notes

**Well, here goes my first fic. I have pretty much all of it outlined, so don't be afraid of everlasting in-progress-ness, because it will not happen =)**

Certain things to keep on mind when reading this fic:

- I am kinda new to the fandom, so if you notice any major inconsistency, let me know and I'll try to fix it. Same goes with the intrinsic TF terms... I think I have them all figured out, but stuff happens =3

- Most TF:P dates and times are a total mystery to me. I swept tfwiki a thousand times but I still cannot figured out certain time lapses, so be lenient with those please.

- I am taking the artistic liberty of making deep space travel available before the last space bridge is actually functional at the end of the great war (this is for the Prime-verse, don't forget). This might actually be OK with canon, but I have no idea, so I'll just let everyone know now 0w0.

- Story happens somewhere before the chapter Partners (aka, Starscream is still with the Decepticons and all the last chapter's Unicron-mumbo-jumbo is still nowhere to be found)

- The (sort of) main character is an OC. I noticed afterwards that this might be worth mentioning, since his identity is one of the issues of the plot and I don't want to disappoint anyone.

Warnings:

- This fic contains no pairings BUT some might be appearing off screen. Whatever I decide to write about them, will be done in separated fics to keep the plot and the mushyness separated.

- Spark-bonding might or might not be included in the fic, but not the the lovey-dovey sort. I believe that if rape is the evil twin of love making, then spark-bonding ought to have a dark side as well.

- Other continuities stuff might happen... I have a hard time keeping track of all of it.


	2. Prologue

Prologue

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_Escape-escape-escape-escape-escape-escape-escape-escape-escape-escape-escape-escape-escape-escape-escape-escape-escape-escape-escape-escape_

It was like a mantra sweeping through his processor, propelling him forward across the mist of his messed-up thoughts and the error messages popping up before his optics.

His right servo grasped for purchase on the dirty walls while his left one swung from side to side spraying droplets of energon on the streets. He would have literally sparkled if light shone on him, his whole hull was a mass of open circuitry and gashes leaked his vital fuel, bathing him whole.

He heard a second explosion but he didn't even glance back as the redish light suddenly made his shadow race before him.

If anything, he tried to limp faster, knowing nothing was gained by analizing right now. There was only the place he had been and the need to get away. Still no place he ought to get to, so that was that: finding where that would be and getting there.

But the task wasn't as simple as that. Iacon was as non welcoming for him as it had ever been (not to mention boiling with soldiers at every corner) and Kaon... well, Kaon was out of the question now.

Would the high ranks at Polyhex know about what happened just now? Was Tyger Pax on the loop? And what about Tarn?

For that matter, would anyone actually know, besides the traitorous slag? What about his creator? Did he know what happened to him and his brothers?

And what if he did... what if the order had just been issued like every other one. A datapad to be glanced and accepted by everyone, no questions asked, non answered.

Even by his unreadable yellow eye.

NO! No thinking! No processing and no analizing.

He snapped out of his grimm riverie and tried to move faster.

_Run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run-run_

When he was safe, he would think. For now he just had to get away.

Anything else was irrelevant.

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Well, that's it for a short prologue. I'll post the first chapter later on today or tomorrow 0w0

R&R is extremely appreciates, specially concrit, since I am pretty new at this storytelling stuff =3


	3. Chapter 01

"**This dialogue" = Normal speech**

"**_This dialogue"_ = Bumblebee's speech**

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Chapter 1

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The sidewalk of the high school was suddenly flooded by kids as the end-of-the-day bell rung. Parents where coming and going too, picking their respective children in the crowd.

But there was one strangely empty car parked there. Still, the scene inside it was pretty much the same as the other occupied vehicles:

"Hello Bee, how are you doing?"

"_Hi Raff, pretty fine so far. Any interesting stuff at school?"_

"Meh, not really. Save for the math class, everything else was just going over old things for the exams. You know, we are getting pretty close to he midterms..."

"_Midterms?"_

"Yeah. It's just some tests that come up around this time..."

And so the conversation went, between the boy and the car. Rafael then begun telling his friend the nuances of his school day and anything worth noting from home, and Bumblebee told him whatever he found interesting during his scouting patrols at night, or scan duty, or whatever he'd been doing since they last seen each other. With time, it had evolved in a warm routine that made the both of them feel like, on the whole, things where good. Since Raff was still a kid, the bot usually projected a hologram to give the impression that someone was driving, but still the communication between them sounded like a boy talking to an 8-bit game gone crazy.

They where cruising at mild speed through the streets of Jasper, heading towards the Autobot base, when they heard a massive screech of tires slightly ahead of them and suddenly all the traffic when berserk with honks. Raff was rummaging for something in his backpack when he heard it so he almost hit his head with the back of the seat with the start.

"What just happened?"

"_I don't know!.. I think it was a guy on a motorbike that just went past us. He suddenly hit the brakes and drifted like mad."_

"Did he crash?" Asked the kid with a frown of concern.

"_Don't think so. After leaving tires all over the place he sped through 3rd av. and disappeared."_

"Wow, that's crazy!"

"_I know! He did have some skills, though, I give him that." _Said the bot chuckling in chirps and whistles.

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No way. No fucking way.

I must finally be going mad, he thought bitterly, as he kept on going faster and faster through the half deserted streets.

His mind replayed once and again what had just happened and his pulse began hammering furiously.

He had been going through 14 st. pretty much leisurely (since it was quite early and he didn't have anywhere else planned to visit for the day anyways), when he was approaching 3rd av... and then he passed the yellow fancy car-

And his head pretty much imploded when he remembered the voice of the kid, and the other voice. Those sounds, those goddamn amazing sounds he hadn't heard on god knows how many... what was it, centuries? Millennia?

He had been so shocked by the whole thing that he actually braked in the middle of the traffic and almost went head on into a shop. Good thing his reflexes where good.

Still... transformers!

He couldn't think of anything else. He had found cybertronian life on the god forsaken planet he was living in. It was enough to halt all his thoughts.

All the same, he had dodged a light post and sped through the 3rd av. on instinct.

As he turned through alleys and streets making a wide U course he realized it had been his rational mind which had decided to flee the scene. After all, wasn't it more important _why_ there was another mech out there, rather than the discovery itself?

Suddenly, he felt as if someone had taken the metaphorical ground below his feet. He realized he hadn't really prepared himself for a meeting with another bot in this world, and now that he had found one, he had little idea on how to approach it. After all, what if the war was still raging on? He wasn't looking forward to facing either faction.

No matter how joyful he might have felt when hearing the old cybertronian dialect coming from that yellow muscle car, he had to be extremely cautious about the whole matter.

Making up his mind, and feeling his old and almost forgotten programming stirring, he headed towards where they had been heading.

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A couple of minutes later he realized he had lost them completely, and began agonizing on the fact that he might not be able to find them ever, when he remembered: the kid!

He hadn't really been listening to what the boy had been saying, but when he had drifted in surprise he could recall seeing the a backpack in his lap. That, combined with the time it had been when he saw them left him with a pretty solid suspicion of where they had both been. Now it was just a matter of finding which school had the little guy come from.

It would take time, but he welcomed the opportunity to think, since he needed some time to discern the best course of action once he found them again. And besides, he had all the time in the world. Literally.

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**Well, here's where it catches on with the Prime timeline. **

**Note: The character I introduce in this chapter is a bot which has a particular speech patter, in that he doesn't generally talk with cybertronian terms (like using 'feet' instead of 'pedes', and 'thoughts' instead of 'processes', etc). There is a reason for this, which I'll eventually explore further on the plot, but not right now =3**

**Hope you have enjoyed it and as always, reviews are greatly appreciated ^^**


	4. Chapter 02

"**This dialogue" = Normal speech**

"**_This dialogue"_ = Bumblebee's speech**

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Chapter 02

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A couple of week or so went by until he found them again. He had stood outside the dozen grade schools throughout Jasper without results until he figured out the kid might be a very small junior high schooler instead. And on the fourth day he caught sight of the empty yellow car parked innocently a block down said building.

He waited patiently until the boy came out and they set off. He followed them swiftly a few blocks away, zig-zagging on their route so they wouldn't notice him too much. It would have been strange of them to do so, given the lapse of time since they had last seen him, but it always paid to be careful... after all he knew perfectly well that transformers had an excellent sight of what was happening behind them when in alt mode, as opposed to human drivers. He soon noticed they where heading for the desert and was a bit unnerved by the fact that he'd eventually have to let their roads split unless he wanted to attract unwanted attention to himself. All the same, he was hoping to be able to find at least to which other town (or perhaps ranch?) they where going. If it was a daily school routine it just couldn't be that far away.

Suddenly he saw them cut across unmarked terrain and head east through the desert. To his surprise, a heavy duty all-terrain truck followed suit behind the yellow car. He most certainly hadn't expected that... perhaps there where others too.

Throughout the whole school-hunting period, he had assumed that the mech he was looking for was a stranded bot who had landed there by accident. That was the easy explanation for why he had contact with a human who clearly knew him for what he was. He knew it well, after all. Between survival and loneliness the scales would instantly tip to the former, but after years of talking to oneself the priorities became less and less... contrasting.

"The fedex dude and Wilson would agree" he muttered to himself.

He was pretty sure the other vehicle was also a cybertronian (if only because he disapproved of bizarre coincidences) so _that_ at least meant that they had another one there to talk to, so... was there something else to the connection the yellow bot and the kid share? Other than one of those that-other-person-that-knows kind of deal?

Well, things would clear out eventually. He kept going for a short time until he found an outcrop large enough to yield him, and waited a bit, just in case. Then, he got off the bike.

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"Yo, Raf!" Yelled Miko with her usual insane amount of energy.

"Hello, Miko. You look a bit hyped." Replied the boy mildly, watching her bounce between his companion bot's armor plates as they entered the base.

"Yeeees, yes, yess, yesssss! Today is THE day!" She screamed jumping down and dragging him into a bear hug that lifted him off the floor.

"Whghhu?"

Bulkhead chuckled lightly and patted the girl in the back so she'd release the rapidly suffocating boy "Tonight me 'n Miko are gonna go to the Bashhead rockfest. It's go-"

"IT'S GONNA BE EPIC! The best gig EVER!"

Raf laughed heartily at the girl's level of excitement "I get the pic. By the way, did you see Jack today? I met him before the second period, but missed him at the exit."

"Huh? I dunno. He's probably busy being boring to that Sierra chick." She said with a malicious grin. That earned her a reproachful look from the smaller boy, which she shrugged off as she bounced back to her companion talking non-stop.

Bumblebee chose that moment to call Raf's attention with a high pitched chirp.

"N_ow that you mention it, Arcee had told me that she was itching for some highway riding. She must have convinced Jack to go with her for a spin." _

"I see" Said the kid looking a bit downcast "I was really hoping to show him the new Thirst for Speed. Just got it this morning and he said we could blast the arcade mode this afternoon." He looked a bit sheepish at Bee. "Do you think you'd have some time this afternoon to play a bit?"

"_Sure! Unless something pops up... I'm supposed to have the night shift today, so bring it on!"_ Whistled the yellow mech happily while pumping the air with a fist.

"Allright!" Said the boy as he climbed to the sofa, a wide smile on his face.

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"So, where do you want to go?" Asked Jack as he felt the wind whipping at his clothes.

"Hmmmm. Anywhere's fine by me. I just wanted the kinks out of my fenders." Said the fembot as she did some questionably safe slaloming between a few cars.

"... You know, that sounds oddly disturbing" Replied the boy with a smile.

"I see puberty is hitting you hard lately." Arcee laughed loudly.

She was starting to feel that odd good humor she always got when she let herself unwind and ride at neck-breaking speed without a point. Fast driving when chased or chasing was one thing, but this, this was the pure joy of the speed for the speed's sake. And Jack felt it too. Both of them liked these shared moments of not thinking, and just feeling the air hitting hard.

After a few days of bridge and monitor duty, Arcee had been more than ready for some scouting, but then it had rained like there was no tomorrow, and the ideally quiet shifts of speeding here and there morphed into careful and painfully slow drifts through muddy and sticky places she really didn't like at all. The highway idea was a lovely change and given the lack of decepticon activity as of late, Optimus had agreed easily o her request for some speed-venting.

Jack took her out of her reverie with a slight squeeze to the handles.

"Hey, was that a motorbike parked back there?"

"What?"

"It was just a second, but I think I saw a bike behind some of those rocks. You know, the ones a few of miles from the base that look like a bunch of bananas upside down."

The silence of the femme stretched for some seconds. "Upside down bananas?" He could almost see the grin she'd have if she had had her faceplates on.

"Whatever." Said the boy sulking.

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He walked on, going as fast as he dared while still making sure he was erasing what marks he left. The tire tracks in the ground where easy enough to follow for anyone with descent eyesight, so to him it was little more than a child's game. This somehow made him remember his days before Earth. He could almost taste the greasy smokes of Kaon or the dusty, inert air of the Halls of Records. Every place he had been to had a particular taste (or smell, he couldn't pinpoint the feeling exactly). But they had all had something in common: every sight he had seen and place he had been, he had been looking for something. He could picture his memories on Cybertron as a string of searches, an uninterrupted course of data-pads handed to him depicting a thing, a place or a bot. And here he was again, in the exact same position. In he delicate balance between chasing and being chased, trying to see and avoid being seen.

With every step, he grew more and more apprehensive, but he was aware of the fact that his anxiety was unfounded. He knew he was, for all that mattered, invisible. Given the chance, he could have been able to open the back seat door and ride Mr. Yellow Car like a cab if he had wanted to and the bot would have thought he was just another small human passing by.

That though was always refreshing. He couldn't help but smile as he remembered the look of surprise and confusion every time, when they realized they could see him with their optics but their sensors told them there was no one there. That he had been standing just behind them up to the very second when he pierced their soft circuitry and snuffed their sparks.

Then his expression grew dark. He didn't regret what he had done, what had been asked of him. War is war, and no side took measures to spare sparks from the other, but he did have a pang of rage when he remembered how life had paid him for a job well done.

He kept on walking for a few hours, feelings boiling inside of him, but it all eventually died away.

No, he didn't regret any of it. Not what happened then, nor what happened afterwards. And that left him oddly at peace.

His thoughts came to a halt when he saw the tracks took a sharp turn to the right, and headed for a valley, in which a single massive outcrop surfaced. From the cover of an antique rocky wall, he followed the straight line with his eyes as they went into the face of the rock. he was about to go on to investigate further when he heard the whine of tires heading fast towards him.

He didn't waste a second thinking and searched wildly for a hiding.

There! A crack in the wall of the valley. It would be extremely uncomfortable if he had to squeeze himself in there for more than a few minutes, but that's all he needed.

He watched from his improvised hideout as a blue bike sped by, heading exactly towards the giant outcrop. And his eyes widened when he saw the solid rock crack in straight lines and open up to receive it. He could see the insides for a brief moment: plates of metal arranged regularly covering every wall. It rendered him unmoving for a few minutes while he digested the information.

A base. He found a cybertronian base on Earth.

He felt his insides churn with the implications. Bases where not a place for random refugees, nor people who accidentally crash-landed. Bases meant it was a place they intended to stay while remaining hidden. Bases meant war.

When he came out of the outcrop, he didn't go out to the valley. He stuck to the wall, and made his way back. He walked the hours he had made before in the opposite direction, grabbed his old motorbike and headed back to the town.

He had to think, and above all, he had to observe.

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**Well, that's it for this chapter. I am happy with how this is coming... I was a bit worried about not being able to write what I had in mind, but it pretty much clicked in place of it's own accord.**

**I hope you have liked it, and as always, reviews and critiques are more than welcome ^^**


	5. Chapter 03

**I apologize for the late update... rl is kicking my butt right now w**

"**This dialogue" = Normal speech**

"**_This dialogue"_ = Bumblebee's speech**

**.:This dialogue:. = Internal comm. speech**

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Chapter 03

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He was almost completely certain they where autobots by now. He had suspected as much since the first time he had heard those carefree whistles from the yellow car (he doubted any decepticon would have sounded _that_ cheerful when talking to an organic life form) but he confirmed his theory the first time he saw the government helicopter landing on top of the giant boulder. The idea of Megatron (and he just couldn't picture anyone else being the decepticon leader) maintaining a peaceful stance towards a technologically underdeveloped world like Earth made absolutely no sense at all. On the other hand, that would have been such an autobot thing to do. Low profiling wasn't strange when in alien worlds for either faction, but political agreement wasn't the decepticon modus-operandi.

He sat down propped against the cool rock wall of the cave where he had been living for the past months and let his mind wander towards that first time when he saw the yellow car. He couldn't help but wonder at how much you could find out about things if you just kept your eyes open. By now he knew there where at least four bots living in the base: three who routinely came and went with humans and at least one to operate the inside of the base. He also knew that at least five humans came and went to the base: the three children, a woman in a Sedan and the middle-aged government man who used the chopper. For what he had seen and heard on those short moments when the autobots lingered outside the base, each of the kids had befriended a particular bot, and them in turn had incorporated them to their lives. He had watched both races share the sort of insignificant details one tells those who have already heard all the important things and now are down to just the everyday talk.

This information might have seem irrelevant had he been any other kind of mech, but for him, it was priceless. If the autobots where in good terms with humans it meant he'd have a chance to interact with them and keep his identity to himself at the same time. He much preferred getting into the base through disguise and manipulation rather than plainly sneaking in... He didn't discard the option, if push came to shove (and it had certainly been his top choice in the past), but the former was clearly easier right now and involved much less risk of getting shot.

In spite of his past allegiance, he was truly relieved that he had found autobots rather than 'cons. There was no way he would have been able to approach his old faction with an organic appearance and receive some kind of help or mercy. Decepticons had no tolerance for what they considered inferior races or their supporters.

At that point he scowled at himself. When had things changed for him? What have been the fist thing that began washing the old propaganda away from his mind?

He could remember his first days on Earth... the disgust at the sheer alien quality of it all had been so utterly profound, even now he could remember the sensations. Still, he mused, he had been almost an alien to his own home-world, in a way, so that was probably what had allowed him to accept so easily. And acceptance had became fondness so alarmingly fast.

He almost laughed out loud at that. The higher ups from the purple banner would have teared his head off in the past if he had so much as thought something like that.

The mirth died and a numb anger filled his mind as he remembered the circumstances of his departure from Cybertron. That had been another good reason he had been lucky in finding autobots. Finding decepticons would have included the possibility of encountering again someone who could actually recognize him. Even if he managed to somehow trick his way into a decepticon base, it would have been hell to efficiently evade certain high ranked officers, like Vortex or Soundwave. He didn't know if either mech were still alive (knowing Soundwave's resourcefulness and Vortex's burality, he was ready to bet on yes to both), but either could have picked him out instantly... and those where just two. And then of course there was always Megatron to take in the equation.

He couldn't have that if he wanted to remain online. His whole survival and his chances of becoming himself again depended on it... and of course, returning to Cybertron too. Even after all this time.

Even after all the lives he had lived on Earth, and even though he could remember that feeling of being different, inadequate... almost repulsive to his peers, he still longed to return.

All the same, this planet, this ball of mud that had shaped him in such a small and weak creature, had given him peace of mind; and that too was something he could not forsake.

He hoped fervently that when the moment to make the decision came, he would not regret ignoring the other path.

Still, all this would be in the future; but only if he played his cards correctly. A single wrong step would send all his efforts to waste, but one thing was clear: nothing would happen unless he managed to get in that base.

And so he decided he would make contact the next day.

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It was early afternoon and Bulkhead was shuffling through the second folder of mp3s Miko had left him, when a man approached him.

He didn't pay him any attention until said man stood next to the passenger door and tapped the window pane twice. The mech realized that he had the windows tinted and assumed the individual wanted to talk to the hypothetical owner of the vehicle so he ignored him just as well.

Tap-tap.

"Hello Mr. Mind if we talk for a bit? I've got some matters I'd like to discuss with you.

Bulkhead sighted inwardly annoyed at the insistence, and remained silent while he looked at the dude with his right door mirror.

The man had one of those hard to define, pale faces that could range from mid 20s to late 30s and had short and mousy brownish hair. He looked average in pretty much every way a random person could, from the casual 'jeans, shirt and hoodie' wear to his non-descriptive face. He was kinda short, but not too much; nor too thin or fat. He was carrying a black backpack.

Bulkhead watched him closely wondering what he'd do if he didn't go away before Miko came out of class and noticed there was a subtle smile in his face that didn't touch his eyes.

Then it hit him... the guy was checking if there was anyone inside because he wanted to steal him! The little glitch!

He waited for the next tapping and as the knuckles rapped the glass for the second time he blasted the audios to full volume with a glorious heavy metal riff.

Birds fled panicked from every tree three blocks around.

To his disappointment, instead of the satisfying leap and shriek Bulkhead was expecting, he only received a chuckle and a head shake from the man.

Then the man looked directly at the mirror in the door and hunched as if telling a secret.

"When I said 'with you', I meant you and your other wheeled friends... I thought it would be more polite to tap your window rather than the wall of that rather big rock you take your lady friend to every day or so."

"What the- How did you- I don't know what you are talking about!" The car spluttered.

"You do know that from this close I_ can_ see through the glass enough to tell there is no one inside, don't you?"

"... Damn..." The car sagged a bit.

"It's not my intention to cause any trouble, sir. I just wanted a word with your, eh, people. My name is Thomas Black and I am an independent journalist." As he said this he took a little card and made a handing motion to the door in general. Bulkhead sighted and lowered the window pane an inch so he could drop it inside. The man looked pleased and anxious, and dipped his head a bit in acknowledgement, smiling faintly.

"Journalist?"

"An interviewer. You see, I specialize in all sorts of journalism, but my latest project was based on proofing the falsehood of a number of government-related conspiracies. Imagine my surprise when I found out one of those wasn't so false at all..."

"Errr, I'm not supposed to-"

"Oh, no, I didn't mean to put you in the spot here." Bulkhead saw the man now looked a bit nervous and sounded apologetic enough "I mean, I'm probably not gonna be able to publish any of this, but I wanted to at least meet one of you, I mean, it's a once in a life time for a journalist to stumble across something as big as this, you know, and I..."

"Can you hold on a second?" The mech rearranged his thoughts and pinged his superior.

.:Yes, Bulkhead:.

.:Opimus, we have a problem.:.

.:Decepticons?:. Optimus voice darkened.

.:No... not at all:. The green mech answered as he sent a data packet with a transcription of the conversation so far.

.:Hmmm.:. Optimus rumbled. .:This is certainly unexpected. I believe agent Fowler would be the most adequate person to deal with this kind of situation.:.

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Fowler was living his worst nightmare.

Never mind the evil alien robots from planet hell. Never mind the eternal collateral damage reports. Never mind the lame paychecks and even lamer work hours. He had in his hands the worst military PR nightmare ever: and independent journalist WITH RELIABLE SOURCES!

How on Earth did that happen? They had pretty much a crew of people to sort out and filter information so it didn't leak to the public, even the kids helped with that sometimes, but this freaky bastard had had solid data! He knew of at least four autobots and he identified upon questioning which humans had been at the base. He knew about the goddamn base itself! THE FUCKING DECEPTICONS DIDN'T KNOW WHERE THE BLASTED BASE WAS, AND THE LITTLE BASTARD KNEW!

And the most annoying thing was he wasn't one of the easy ones! Ooooh, fuck no! He wasn't in it for the money! He was one of those "I have to know the truth" kind!

He wasn't even threatening with going public, or with selling the information, or _anything_! He was basically _PLEADING_! And that would have been peachy in any other case... they would have shown him the steps of the bureau with a boot-shaped print in his ass; but right now they had in their hands a creeper who had a line somewhere. Never mind he was a good-intention, flowers and kittens hippie!

If he didn't find out who was the source his superiors would scalp him with a spoon. A _rusty_ spoon.

And then they'd probably move the base which would make him the direct responsible of separating the bots from the kids and, Fowler had a hard time admitting, it would suck because it meant he wouldn't see either of them again too.

After having him a week in custody he had refused thoroughly to reveal who had tipped him and, short of torture, (and he was a bit offended that his superiors had told him _that_ was out of the question as if he had actually considered it... even though he had, there, for a second... sigh), they where running out of ideas.

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While his face showed calm determination as he listened to the questions yet again his inner thoughts where smirking with satisfaction at a job well done.

He couldn't believe it had been_ that_ easy. All he had to do was wag classified information beyond the Fed's reaching hands and then dance around the interrogatories with different combinations of naivety, determination and mysteries-of-life infatuation. He was a tad bit disappointed that a random human could actually wiggle their way so easily in the autobot base in a (somewhat) perfectly legal way... the fact that he knew perfectly well how these kind of procedures worked certainly helped but still, it had been so easy...

He remembered his short interaction with the green autobot and smiled inwardly. He could tell the large mech was clearly the least... stealthy one. If it had been him, he would have played fool until the end and then decided what to do with the intruder once he had kidnapped it properly for interrogation. That had been a possible scenario in his mind, but since he was dealing with the we-don't-harm-prisoners faction anyway, he had assumed kidnapping would have involved a trip to the base, so it would have been good anyways.

He listened as the agents droned on about national security and was preparing his umpteen speech regarding the value of truth and knowledge when the officer that had escorted him to the bureau came in the room and ushered the agents out. He looked at the officer with blank politeness and the smuggest of smirks plastering his brain.

Fowler pinched the bridge of is nose and said "I am going to regret this..."

And then the man allegedly called Thomas Black _did_ smile, but the smug didn't reach his face.

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**Well, as always, thoughts are appreciated. Cheers =)**


	6. Chapter 04

"**This dialogue" = Normal speech**

"**_This dialogue"_ = Bumblebee's speech**

**.:This dialogue:. = Internal comm. speech**

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Chapter 04

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_-6 hours before-_

"... and that's why my superiors think the easiest way will be to just let him get away with it. Mind you, it will be a restricted twenty-question interview and a quick tour through the main parts of the base, at that, so it shouldn't take more than two hours, three tops." Finished Fowler with an offended look directed at the universe in general.

The whole autobot team was in the base along with the kids at the moment, and where all gathered around the human listening intently.

"So, let me clarify, we have to basically play hosts to a random civilian because you cannot seem to be able to extract information out of him? Next time what, hn? We'll be having social events at the sick bay? This is a base and we are at war, by Primus! If you cannot manage your own information leaks, I don't see why we should-"

"Ratchet" Optimus said tiredly placing a hand on his friend's shoulder and effectively stopping the ongoing rant. "I understand your uneasiness, but the information leak does concern us directly." He watched the screens he had been monitoring which now held an image of the man being interrogated by the agents an frowned as he meditated the matter. Then, he turned his optics with an arched eyebrow to the scowling government man. "Agent Fowler, what prevents Mr Thomas Black from withholding his information sources after the encounter, and from equally redistributing the information he already knows?"

"Well, the higher-ups aren't taking any chances. If he so much as writes the world "robot" in a napkin he wins a one way trip to some comfortable new facilities in Alaska. He knew we would be demanding this and happily said he was pretty much willing to sign with blood, so I am guessing he plans to abide by it without much trouble. He's either genuinely willing to shut up, or very, VERY stupid... still not discounting the second, though, so he'll also get permanent monitoring from the tech crew from now on." Fowler said, looking like and extremely unhappy man on a crusade against universal punk-ness.

Optimus returned his gaze to the screens and cocked his head in thought. "I doubt he is a fool as you suggested, agent. He successfully managed to gather classified information and afterwards used this fact to get the answers he was intending. If anything, I'd say he is resourceful... but I wonder what his purpose is with all this. Why go to such lengths just for a short interview? Withstanding a week of interrogation seems excessive for such an ephemeral thing."

"You are kidding right?" Every pair of eyes in the room looked at the girl, who in time rolled her eyes and sighed expansively flipping her hands in the air.

"I mean, duh, look at you! If I found out there where giant alien robots that fight with laser guns and transform into cars I'd sell a kidney too just to see you guys for thirty seconds... Probably both kidneys, actually." She said, on reflection.

The statement gained a chuckle from Bulkhead and an exasperated sigh from Rathchet who did some eye-rolling of his own. The medic was well aware of the abundant thirst for knowledge some humans seemed to poses so he assumed it probably made sense for some of them to be this eager to meet extraterrestrial life forms... still, it was one more source of annoyance that they had to be put through such a waste of time just because it had stricken the fancy of one half-clever organic.

Optimus on the other hand seemed mildly amused by the worlds of the teenager and shook his head slightly. "I see your point, Miko. I am constantly underestimating human curiosity."

At this point Fowler cleared his throat recalling the attention to himself. "So... who's gonna volunteer for the meeting with the creeper?"

The bots looked at each other rapidly. Arcee and Ratchet where scowling furiously, and Bulkhead looked panicky at the thought of being the autobot representative in a speaking event. Bumblebee chirped in excitement but was soon disappointed when the liaison pointed out the journalist had asked for a dialogue without intermediaries, and without an interpreter Bumblebee was out of the question. Soon the base was filled with the noise of three mechs explaining loudly to the world why someone else was the better choice as the Prime listened quietly. Eventually the ruckus died when he lifted one hand asking for silence and, to the healer's dismay, Optimus fixed him with a calculating gaze.

"Oh, please! I'm too busy to be dealing with this sort of public relations nonsense!"

Optimus then said that given what the initial reaction of the humans he had met so far had been, most questions would probably regard cybertronian anatomy or science, which he was better qualified for answering, as well as the fact that he was more used to lengthy explanations, which would appeal better to the reporter.

The medic noted the glint of amusement in Optimu's optics as he numbered his reasons for his decision; and was getting increasingly bothered by the suspicion that he had been picked out in one of those getting-to-know-the-humans-better-is-good-for-you spells Optimus seemed to have from time to time. He groaned in frustration as Optimus got to the "good will between inhabitants of this world" part of the speech.

Slag it, the Prime was even smiling now!

0

_-Present time-_

As he was lead to the chopper atop of the building and helped with the straps he reviewed possible scenarios in his mind.

Since the beginning he had assumed he'd only get one chance to enter the base so he had to make the best of it. He had insisted particularly on the touring part, given it would paid to know the internal layout, and what wouldn't be shown to him, he could try to scan. He assumed it would be possible since the bots wold be using internal communication inside, so the walls had to be at least thin enough to let the comm signals through (and thus a positional scanner's as well).

If he was reading the situation correctly he had pushed some unwanted buttons, and so he was pretty sure they would want to be rid of him as soon as possible. He was planning on using that for his advantage, of course, he thought as he narrowed his eyes.

He was hoping on playing on this by hastily proposing to begin the questions at the same time as the tour, just to "save the time of his surely very busy hosts". This would give him something quite important to him.

A swift gaze in the direction of the cabinet that held the healing nanytes; a darted look at the weapons storage they were not supposed to mention; or a tired (perhaps longing) glance in the direction of the recharging quarters would provide him with precious advantage when he'd be doing the, ahem, _acquiring_ part of the visit, and those simple facts could be gathered by simply asking the right questions and watching closely... something he was really good at.

He glanced out of the window as the chopper went above tiny cities and vast deserts and wondered, not for the first time, if things would go as smoothly as he hoped.

He knew what he had to do, and how to do it, but still, there where so many variables... He was rendered anxious and worried by the knowledge that he'd eventually have to improvise, making some sort of time window to get what he needed and get out before being missed, or even better, picking the goodies without them noticing and then finishing the whole business with polite goodbyes, non-disclosure promises, and none the wiser.

If everything went accordingly, he'd be completely untraceable, and out of the planet by the end of the month. And that, he told himself, would be it.

He'd be back to Cybertron in no time. He didn't even know what he'd do there, but at least he'd be back, and even through all the pain and all the misery he had lived, and even though Earth had become more than just a place to survive in, home was still home. With it's bustling cities and familiar towering structures that stretch for miles, Cybertron somewhat kept calling to him.

He wondered for a brief, warm instant, where he would go first when he arrived.

0

.: So, Ratch, is the bugger giving you any trouble?:. Bulkhead voice in the inter comm sounded quite happy, much to the white and red mech's mounting annoyance, who answered with a silent growl of frustration.

.:Pshh, as if. It's like talking to the teenage pests for the first time all over again.:.

.:Hey! Don't take it out on us just because you got to be the designated spokesman!:. protested Jack. .:Besides, you are doing great... he hasn't fallen asleep yet, so it counts, right?:. he added with a bit of acid, something quite rare in him.

Rathchet was using the small pauses between explanations addressed at the journalist to talk internally with his comrades, who where basically rolling in the floor laughing in the cargo area (except for the Prime, who was listening quietly and smiling occasionally). All of them where hooked in the same frequency so he was getting an assorted chatter from the peanut gallery at his expenses while he led the human around. He wouldn't admit this, but he was secretly glad for the noise, since he had feared the interview would have been tedious if he had been by his own. As it where, it was still tedious, but at least it was coated with the amusement of everyone else. Jack and Miko where patched in the conversation too, using a pair of walkies, and the girl was raging.

.:Ooooh man, I can't believe he keeps asking boring stuff! Who _cares_ what you used to come here? It was a ship or something, PERIOD! All that science dull stuff... what a waste!:.

.:Well, I, for once, am glad he is directing himself to more scientific matters. Explaining neuro-transmitters is much more fascinating and it avoids mentioning the whole-:.

.:Yeah, but that's just 'cause you are a nerd, doc-bot:. Came the reply from the teen.

Howling laughter ringed in the medics audios.

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As the interview progressed the intruder felt more confident. His cover story was easy to play, and he didn't even had to feign too much to look the part of a frail organic, intimidated by the size of his host; given _that_ was quite close to how he really felt. He listed mentally the materials he needed: nanytes (A and R type if possible), fuel, armor plates for repairs to his pod (though he was actually quite sure he'd be able to steal that from other places, given the government was handling the corpses of fallen decepticons) and a few spare parts he didn't even had to look for since he had seen them on some of the sickbay shelves. All this ran through the back of his mind while he made comments and questions, and looked eager to know more about things he already knew.

He had been a pleasantly surprised when he had been introduced to the only mech he hadn't known previously though it was soon spoiled when he noticed the medic chevron on the bot. He had never met a doctor he liked and this one was every bit as sour and unfriendly as a lump of coal. Still, he felt a small flicker of amusement at the discomfort he was causing in the autobot. Factions where something hard to overcome, and he just couldn't help he tiniest bit of decepticon-cause-fueled glee.

He didn't learn much he didn't know, given he was asking mildly generic and useless questions to keep suspicions low, but among other things, he found out there was another mech he hadn't accounted for, since the total number of them in the base was five and not four as he had suspected. This didn't meant much, other than the base was quite small.

"It must be a fringe outlook post" he mused. Stations in worlds that saw direct conflict where generally handled by larger crews and this particular rock was so far away from everything it probably was just a place to oversee a particular resource rout or something like that.

He noticed that the questioning time he had left was getting shorter and spared some thoughts on the exit strategy. He was hoping he'd be able to use the classic human need for toilette trips to slip unnoticed (and he was pretty sure there had to be some around since they often had kids in the place and it clearly was some kind of abandoned human facility) but saw how the gaze of medic often wondered around as they strolled through the base; and that kind of carelessness meant he didn't need to keep an eye on him, a.k.a., the rooms had to have cameras. But he highly doubted they'd be watching the inside of the bathrooms themselves, and since they where pretty much underground, they'd have to have some kind of ventilation system... for the whole base actually. So once inside, all he'd have to do was crawl through the insides of the walls, gather what he needed and, yes, get out directly through the elevator shaft and into the chopper. He had yet to know a ventilation system he couldn't squeeze himself into and judging by the air shafts he was seeing near the roof, this wouldn't be much of a challenge, even to his human shape.

No heartfelt goodbyes with the medic then.

As he polished other details, such as distracting his hosts with electrical malfunctions, he noticed idly the doc had finished with his question number eighteen, which left him with only two left. He had left some pretty simple dorky ones regarding interaction with human technology for the end when a sudden flash of curiosity hit him.

"My word, that was fascinating. On a different theme, and I apologize for the sudden change in the topic, why did you come to this planet?"

The government people that had interrogated him knew he had some knowledge about the autobot/decepticon conflict (though more in "I saw footage of two distinct teams of robots fighting each other" terms), and he was pretty sure they would have told the bots as much, but he still had avoided the subject entirely, just to put his interviewee more at ease.

Now though, he just plainly wanted to confirm if his theory regarding the purpose of the base was right. He prided himself greatly on his deductive abilities, and he sometimes was ashamed by this display of weakness, but when he formed hypothesis he found great pleasure in confirming them, and this one wasn't very different a case. So he fired the question with true curiosity, even though he hadn't planned to, wondering if he'd get the truth he knew or some silly cover story for some reason he still couldn't picture. Instead, he got a truth he had never expected to get.

He saw the medic sag in place a bit, with his lip plates pressed tightly and his optics unfocused, as if he was remembering a sour memory.

"We came to this planet because we had no choice. I have been informed that you are well aware of the conflicts between the two factions in our species. At some point the civil war in which those originated reached such a level of destruction that our own planet was rendered a lifeless husk and we all had to abandon it or perish. We, and I mean autobots, are hoping to establish this planet as a new home and to accomplish-" the medic went on explaining their current status quite pompously, but he failed to notice wasn't being listened to.

At that point, the fake journalist felt an odd feeling of coldness surround him and realized he couldn't hear anything anymore... nothing seemed to be able to get above the the scream inside his own head.

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**Sad chapters are coming for our mysterious protagonist. I always wondered what the Cybertronians who where far from home would feel when they found out their planet was dead.**

**See you in the next chapter, and remember, reviews are author's cookies =D**


	7. Chapter 05

"**This dialogue" = Normal speech**

"**_This dialogue"_ = Bumblebee's speech**

**.:This dialogue:. = Internal comm. speech**

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Chapter 05

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Before the interview, Fowler had given Ratchet a list of sensitive matters which where not to be discussed and said that his superiors asked politely if he could be as sincere as possible with everything else. No doubt they'd be hoping to get some intel for themselves and that was utterly foolish, the mech thought, because what Optimus had decided not to tell the government's agents on the first place, he was certainly not going to tell to this one random organic. Still, the Prime wanted to nurse their good relationship with the humans as much as possible, so he agreed to the not-lying clause and confirmed to Ratchet that he should tell things as complete and truthfully as possible.

The medic had been escorting Mr Black through the corridor that lead from the barracks to the main hangar when he was asked the question he had most hoped not to hear, but he stilled himself and answered as best as he could. He added afterwards some good old fashion "we come in peace" sermon, since he considered Optimus a true old friend, and that was the kind of simple (and silly in his opinion) things that made his leader happy. Then he noted something strange.

From the beginning of the dialogue, he had been receiving a fluent string of 'aha's, 'hmmm's, and 'ooh's, besides proper replies from the human by his side, but as soon as he paused talking he could tell something had changed. The man was still walking by his side, but he was silent. He also wasn't looking at him... he wasn't looking at anything actually. Hi eyes where pointed straight ahead, but where unfocused and the medic realized with growing concern his skin had paled significantly.

He stopped walking and crouched slightly to look at the man better. The human remained where he was when the walking paused, but still wasn't looking at him and his breathing seemed to be a bit shallow.

"Mr. Black, are you alright?" the bot inquired as he waved a servo before the vacant face in front of him. This did made the man react, as he started a bit due to the close movement near his face, but when he did look at the doctor his expression looked lost and confused.

"I... I... I am... well" answered the man in a monotonous voice as he retreated two steps and focused with some difficulty in the bot's face. The old mech watched him stagger for a little bit and then regain balance awkwardly supporting his weight with one hand on the wall.

.:Optimus, I think there's something wrong with he visitor:.

.:What do you mean, Ratchet?:.

.:I'm not sure. We where getting back to the consoles room when he simply started displaying odd symptoms. If I hadn't been talking to him less than two kliks ago I'd say he's sic; but for what I've seen, humans take generally days or at least hours to develop illnesses. By the AllSpark, he looks as if he was about to faint at any second! Jack, do you know of any human ailment that could cause something like this?:.

.:Well, there are a lot of things that can kick in really fast, but it's weird all the same. Errr, what does he look like?:.

.:Pale. Much paler than when he came in. He seems to be confused and unbalanced, and his hands are shaking. Also his breathing cycles are faster than before:.

Those assembled in he room looked at Jack, who had a concentrated expression. The autobots knew that June talked with Jack about her job all the time, so they considered him as being generally better informed in this kind of matters, even though Jack insisted on his lack of knowledge every time they asked him something organic-related. The truth was, he _had_ learned a thing or two through his mother's anecdotes, so most times he _did_ have accurate opinions regarding common health issues.

0

_Move!_

He just didn't seem to be able to do it. He could tell the medic had noticed his odd reaction, but he just couldn't focus on anything.

Cybertron was gone...

He felt as if he was the only solid thing in the world.

_Move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-_

A part of his mind was trying desperately to remind him that he was still in the innards of an autobot base, with a disguise to maintain if he wanted to leave the place alive; but he kept circling around those words... _...our own planet was rendered a lifeless husk and we all had to abandon it or perish._

It just wasn't possible! It couldn't be! How could the whole planet-?

Ah, but he knew... of course he knew.

Because he had been part of the war long ago, and it was logical that all sources of energon would eventually be consumed, and someday there wouldn't be anymore towers to topple, or cities to scorch... or sparks to extinguish.

He tried to tell himself he had somehow blown his cover, and the autobot was just fucking with his mind, but as hopeful as that thought was, he couldn't convince himself of that. He had seen the grief and resignation in the old bot's optics when he had told him those words, and that had felt like a punch.

It had made him angry; so unaccountably angry to see those optics show sadness. How dare that stupid mech feel any kind of misery when he had at least _been _there to watch the last days of his world... while he had been here... away and alone.

He could contemplate objectively the irrationality of his own rage but it didn't matter, it burned through his systems like acid... and it gave him something his mind could use to solidify the world around.

_Move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-move-_

YES! He had to move! He had to stick to his charade and at least get what he needed to repair himself... even if he didn't know what he would do afterwards.

He felt the fog that was numbing his senses dissipate and leaned on a wall to regain some composure.

If he just managed to stick to the plan, then everything surely would work. Somehow, it surely would.

0

"That sounds a bit as if he were in shock...perhaps?" mused Jack. "You know, like people in car crashes and such? Last month two buses full of people crashed close to mum's work and all of the injured went there. She said the corridors in the hospital where a complete chaos of confused people staring at nothing. It sounded quite creepy."

"Duh, Jack! How on earth would he get himself spooked like that in here? He was walking through the most boring corridor in the world, talking to the nerdiest bot in the base- WAIT! Maybe Ratchet almost stepped on him? That could count as a shocker alright..."

.:Miko, this is serious!:. Ratchet barked through the comm link .:But she does have a point... I didn't know human could display such a range of physical signs when on extreme stress situations, but I fail to see anything that would have triggered it:. then paused abruptly. .:Wait, I think he's recovering.:.

The doctor moved carefully back to allow some space as the man straightened himself and rubbed his temples with both hands.

"I- I am sorry. I felt a bit... unwell, just now" The journalist said as he frowned slightly looking at the mech directly in the optics. "I am feeling better now, though" he said in what he hoped would be a reassuring calm tone. He could tell the medic wasn't really buying it, given the penetrating scrutiny he was getting, but he had regained enough clarity to be pretty sure he was acting the part again fairly well.

"Was that episode a recurrent ailment?" The bot asked curtly.

"Ehm,I think it was just low blood pressure... I sometimes get it when it's too hot outside." he improvised. "I just... need to go splash my face a bit in the bathroom... Would you point it to me, if you don't mind?"

"Of course, follow me." the bot nodded and began walking as he pinged his teammates.

.:Did you hear that, Jack? He seems to believe it was low blood pressure... Could his diagnostics be wrong?:.

.:I have no idea if he could be wrong or not but low blood pressure _does_ get you pale and dizzy... it doesn't make you confused though, just nauseated.:.

.:Hng, no offense, but I don't think I'll trust the self diagnosis of someone whom I had to call three times before he noticed I was standing before him. I'll just scan him at the sick bay and be over with the guessing. The new medical equipment I've adapted for human parameters should be able to tell us what's wrong with him:.

.:Ratchet:. Optimus deep voice sounded after a long while .:I am not sure what the government agent's reaction might be towards us administrating treatment or even medical advise to this man. Still, it would probably be an ever larger source of distaste to them if this man where to have a health problem inside the base. Can you proceed with the scan... discreetly?:.

The medic groaned in annoyance at the observation. Blasted organics and their useless medical regulations!

.:Don't worry Optimus, It's powerful enough he doesn't even have to be next to the machine to provide for the readings. It will just take an instant to tune it, and I'll trigger it while he's busy doing whatever organics do in the bathroom."

0

The mech escorted him past the main hangar and into the sick bay where he pointed at a couple of small rooms where he knew the kids performed their organic functions and turned to the equipment as soon as the door's lock clicked in place after the journalist.

While the red and white mech was calibrating the machine outside, Mr Black despaired once more, though this time by the simple fact that he had not noticed this particular toilette before. Due to being hooked to the sick bay, which had an internal air filter system (like most laboratories) it had the ventilation arrays linked to it as well... which meant that if he got into these particular vents, he'd be stuck in the med bay. All the same, they where in the very room that had everything he was looking for now, so he decided he'd just try to nick the supplies and run to the closest vent in the main hall, if he got discovered. He just wished everything would be over already...

When he was washing his face for the cover's sake up, he felt the tingly sensation of an energy pulse and wondered what would the other members of the base be doing.

0

Rathchet looked at the screen open mouthed, his optics perfectly round and flickering as the implications of what he was seeing hit home. He pinged the comm system so hard the whole cargo bay received a static burst in their ear pieces.

.:Optimus! Come here right now, and set the protocols to seal the base!:. There was such hasty panic in that single sentence that the Prime was already running after the first word. The urgency in the medic's voice made him unconsciously activate his battle mask.

.:Report, now!:. Came the growled response as he flew to the secondary consoles in a lower floor and triggered a number of defensive mechanisms that closed the base air-tight. He could see in the screens the signature of the other bots following suit and, thankfully, of the kids staying in the cargo bay.

.: I just completed the scan and... Slag! Him, Mr. Black, or whatever he's actually called, he isn't a human. By Primus, he's not even organic!

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**I hope I haven't rambled too much with medical symptoms here... I mainly wikied all the particulars, but I hope I just didn't overkill it 6D9**


	8. Chapter 06

"**This dialogue" = Normal speech**

"**_This dialogue"_ = Bumblebee's speech**

**.:This dialogue:. = Internal comm. speech**

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Chapter 06

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After Ratchet's statement the audio was filled with silence, and then exploded as everyone spoke at once.

.:Wait, so cybertronians can look like other things besides mechanical things?:.

.:No, Jack... though there are the pretenders I guess...:.

_.:But they didn't look _that_ much organic!:._

.:Pit, we have a slagging pretender in the base?

, you could look like a _dude_ and you never told me!

.: HE DOESN'T HAVE A SPARK!:. And that ended the cacophony as fast as it had began. .:Optimus, it's what I've been trying to tell you: his inner construction is similar to cybertronian protoforms but there are more than a few discrepancies, and I am not getting a spark pulse reading... I didn't feel any kind of energy field either when I was walking by him:.

.:Energy what?:. Asked the teenage girl.

.:Energy field. It's an electromagnetic energy radiated by sparks, which can be perceived upon direct proximity... not very different to how humans can perceive irradiated body heat, only with a much wider range-:.

.:Ratchet, was he aware of the scan?:. Optimus cut in curtly.

.:I don't think so, he is still in there:.

.:Good. Detain him as soon as he exits the cubicle, we need to secure the base first. Whatever his intentions are, he knows the coordinates of the base itself so his departure must be avoided at all cost:.

.:Do you think he's a 'con spy, boss?:.

.:I don't know Arcee, but It's the most probable explanation and I will not take unnecessary risks.:.

0

When the faux journalist opened the door back to the sick bay, he found himself looking up the edge of a blade several times the size of his head. Said blade was attached to the forearm of the medic who was scowling furiously at him.

.:Do not move. I don't want to harm you, but I will if I have to:.

For a second he considered pledging ignorance but then his mind froze in mid thought as he saw a massive figure approaching at high speed. It was Optimus Prime, as in "leader of the whole autobot faction" Prime. And it was coming towards him with his cannons charged.

At that point he understood he was probably not going to survive the day.

The panic was paralyzing, but he pulled himself together as he noticed the subtle turn in the medic's head when he heard the heavy stomps behind him; and launched himself between his legs.

He had learned long ago during the war that most mechs are trained to fight opponents their size or bigger, but rarely did consider what to do against very small enemies. This wasn't technically a fight, since he was pretty much just running desperately, but he still remembered how to play on a big mech's blind spots.

Optimus saw him dodge the medic as he escaped beyond the med bay and into the main hangar so he changed his course, morphing into his alt form. His tires screamed as he accelerated and then skidded, effectively intercepting the course of the runner with a wall of Peterbilt. He then transformed in a blurr and gracefully crouched to catch the man seconds before it hit him, but found out he missed his mark when Mr. Black sprinted and jumped (much higher than a human could) directly towards him. The small feet took purchase on the glass panes' frame in the giant's chest and with a second jump he grabbed one exhaust pipe from Optimus' back, swinging himself past the mech in one flowing motion.

He had to roll on the floor as he landed, given the height of the fall, but kept on plunging forward, not looking behind in fear of slowing down. He knew the only reason he had managed to escape the Prime was that the larger mech hadn't anticipated the acrobatics, but that was about all the advantage he'd have in the fight. Still, it might be enough.

Beyond the main hall, he could see a corridor turning left where a ventilation grill large enough for him to squeeze stared invitingly at him. If he could just reach it, there was no way they'd be able to ferret him out fast enough for him to get lost in the interior of the base. But this had clearly not been his lucky day.

Mere steps away from the passage a blue bike came from behind and smacked his back hard with a side mirror. At the speed he was going it was enough to upset his balance, sending him rolling through the floor and eventually stopping sprawled on his back, his head spinning with dizziness. He shook his head with his eyes closed and tried to scramble to his feet but he found out an unmovable pressure was holding him down. He opened his eyes to see the face of the Prime as he leaned over him, pinning him to the floor with one servo. He yelped in surprise and struggled madly but couldn't release himself whatsoever, so he eventually desisted and lied there panting hard and looking into those hard, blue optics.

"Do you know who I am?" Inquired the autobot leader calmly.

The man growled in frustration, but said nothing, just nodded lightly averting his eyes.

Optimus battle mask was still on and he was tense, expecting to feel the transformation cogs shift beneath his fingers at any time, but the other remained in human form, and after another small bout of struggling it looked at him again, fear and anger mixed in the small human features.

"I expect Thomas Black isn't your true name. What is your designation?"

This got him even less reaction than the previous question, as the man kept on staring at him, his face now becoming impassive. This made Optimus' eyebrows arch in surprise.

Neither autobots nor decepticons retained their identities when asked, and specially not when imprisoned. Mostly because that was one effective way to ask for a hack job, but also because designations where messages meant to be delivered. Each cybertronian picked their own name when they reached a certain maturity level and the concept or element each one chose for that purpose showed an aspect of their personalities that they themselves though important; so designations where also an expression of self-worth and pride for every mech. Handing a name to a captor equalled throwing their strength in their faces, and reminding themselves about them. Refusing to expose one's designation was a sign of expressed weakness, something far more dangerous to be perceived when you where on the enemy's hands. Even so, Mr. Black remained silent, which made the rest of the autobots now gathered around them to look at each other warily.  
>"Fine then" Optimus said in a tired voice "Ratchet, prepare a containment field for the third storage unit" The medic turned around and with a last look at the intruder started typing on a console.<p>

"Arcee and Bumblebee, go back to the humans. Bulkhead, when Ratchet is done, secure him in the field, join the others and come back here for a briefing" With those words he swiftly enveloped the body he was restraining and handed it to bulkhead who took it awkwardly with both hands in a sort of think barred cage. Optimus noted the... whatever he was, didn't struggle in the exchange. Just sat inside the green mech's palms, not removing his eyes from him. It was an odd stare that made him sigh inwardly. Most captured decepticon tended towards cowardly cooperation or raging fury but this... this was something else. There was anger alright, but also a sort of cold determination and intent. It was an intelligent stare, and Optimus wondered, as he saw Ratchet signal and Bulkhead walk down the hall, just how much trouble did they actually had in their hands.

Returning his thoughts to more immediate matters, he headed for the screen near the elevator and patched in a line to agent Fowler's office.

"Prime, I'm surprise to hear you calling... it's generally the other way around! Everything OK with the creeps' interview?"

"No" Said the mech, and that small word surprised and worried the man. He had never heard anger in the Prime's voice before. "It most certainly is not. The person you know as Thomas Black is not who he said he was. In fact, he is not human at all. He is an inorganic life form who's origin we are still trying to determinate."

"Wait, inorganic? As in mechanical? If he's not one of you guys, wouldn't that make him a decepticon?"

"It is a possibility, but he is like no other decepticon we have ever encountered" Optimus said with a frown in his face. "Decepticon or not, he has infiltrated our base and potentially acquired essential data for the decepticon cause. I have been personally monitoring his progress through he base so I am certain he hasn't tampered with any equipment in the facility but his intention are unclear at best. I have decided to keep him under observation in the base."

"Wait, wait, wait! My superiors will want to handle the detent-"

"Agent Fowler" Optimus cut in "This individual managed to overcome several security measures of your government to infiltrate this base and he did not even use any kind of force to do this. If we hadn't identified him, the amount of damage caused just by the information gathered could have been enormous and we still have no true knowledge of his physical abilities. I don't doubt the capacity of your government in these kinds of situations, but in case he manages to escape, we will be better prepared to handle him while also avoiding putting humans in danger." He paused for some minutes to let the information sink.

"One thing though, Prime. According to what you've been saying, there can be 'cons able to look like people, and you failed to mention this all this time? Do you have any idea of what that could mean?"

"Yes and no. There once have been exoskeletons for cybertronian protoforms designed to mimic organic life forms, but the technology was used for scientific-observational purposes before the war. They where called 'pretenders' and though they could, in theory, be formatted to pass reasonably well for human beings, pretenders cannot shield their spark-energy signatures, and thus we would identify instantly any individual in this world using one of them. What... Mr. Black was using was something entirely different."

"Hmmm, I see... Fine, I'll make it happen, though I am gonna get my head chewed for this..."

"Thank you, agent. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go. I will contact you with more information regarding our guest as soon as it is possible."

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He had been carried and thrown in the storage room with little care. When Black got up (and he _did_ think of himself with that name), he took on his surroundings and frowned. It was a barren room, with a somewhat dirty floor. It looked as if it had once been full of stuff which had been seating in there for a long time, and then removed all at once, leaving bleached shapes between paths of dirt in the concrete and walls. The force field encased the entire room, only noticeable in the door and and a small air vent near the roof, where it shimmered when the light tubes caught it right. All in all, it was quite big, and the air was only slightly musty, but it made him despair to only see smooth concrete walls and floor. The Prime had locked him in a room from which, he realized in about five minutes of exploration, he would not be able to escape on his own.

The realization was hard and cold in his mind and he wondered if it wouldn't just be better to cooperate; tell them everything they wanted to know about himself and his old comrades. He had been a silent witness to the treatment autobots dealt to their prisoners and he knew it was pretty much paid vacations compared to what went into decepticon dungeons, but still, would they hold the same kind of mercy for him?

Unlike most 'con units, whose information sources were mixed deeply with decepticon propaganda and filtered by their superiors to project only Megatron's world-view, he had seen first hand how autobots handled themselves. Both in combat and in their daily chores, he had observed their old enemy and had understood the fundamental difference between both factions: The care autobots had for each other, the compassion and a unique brand of conviction. All that made them formidable enemies, and it was so desirable, so strangely warm, he had wanted it for himself once. He had entertained the idea of defecting, just going and handing himself out to them and asking for a place in there; But as much as he knew they weren't the pit-spawned bastards officers made most decepticon underlings believe, he had instinctively known it was true when they had all assured autobots would kill him and his unit if they where ever caught. Not out of cheap pessimism or lack of confidence, but because he knew he was a mere monster, and the only reason decepticons themselves hadn't executed him was because Shockwave had deemed he might be useful enough not to throw to the scrapheap of the failures (as they called the dark shaft in his lab where the corpses where thrown... sometimes not so dead at all).

He could have never been an autobot simply because his spark had been so modified and warped they just would never have recognized him as cybertronian enough... Wasn't that the reason they couldn't sense him? Because he had been changed into something so different he had lost all right to be recognized by another spark?

He had wondered aloud once, on a rare moment shared only with his unit teammates, if they would go to the well of AllSpark when he died. Most of them thought they would, but it was said with hope, not conviction. The truth is he wasn't sure at all.

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**Ok, I took some liberties in this chapter. I know the concept of pretenders is different from what I am putting in here, but it served my purpose, so what the heck xD **

**Cheers to everyone, and remember: reviews are always greatly appreciated =D**


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